


Silver Slopes

by ironicpotential



Series: Going for Gold - the Winter Olympics AU [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-28 13:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicpotential/pseuds/ironicpotential
Summary: A hush falls over the crowd as she takes her starting place.Her feet are firmly planted, anchoring her to the ground. Each muscle in her body is tensed, ready to leap into action.She may have medaled before, but each competition is a new challenge.





	Silver Slopes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TaFuilLiom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaFuilLiom/gifts).



> Surprise!!!! 
> 
> Hope you like this one! ;)

A hush falls over the crowd as she takes her starting place. 

Her feet are firmly planted, anchoring her to the ground. Each muscle in her body is tensed, ready to leap into action.

She may have medaled before, but each competition is a new challenge. Anything can happen. She can only control how much she has prepared. How hard she has worked.

All the hours practicing— perfecting her form— has come down to this. 

The final. 

The buzzer sounds and she’s off. 

The crowd goes wild as Kara dives into the water, cutting through with barely a splash. She’s fast. Faster than she’s ever been before, closing in on the world record, but still Iris West is close behind.

Next to Alex in the stands, Maggie is on her feet, waving a sign and batting at Alex’s shoulder in excitement. Alex’s own voice is hoarse, chanting her sister’s name, willing her on to victory. 

Finally, Kara’s fingertips touch the edge of the pool and Alex leaps up, pulling Maggie in for a hug. 

Supergirl has done it again.

Their adrenaline receding, both women collapse back into their seats, watching as Kara is mobbed by her teammates. Alex has seen Kara win so many events, but for the first time, she’s not jealous of the attention and praise. She’s actually enjoying herself, partly due to her own victory at the Olympics two years ago and partly due to the fact that Maggie Sawyer is sitting beside her. 

She doesn’t feel like she’s second best in any part of her life anymore. 

“I’m glad you didn’t compete in a summer sport,” she says. 

Maggie smiles, draping her arm over the back of Alex’s seat. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t make the track team in high school then.” 

“Oh were your legs too short to clear the hurdles?” 

Maggie rolls her eyes. “You’re lucky I love you, Danvers.”

Alex softens at the fondness in her voice. It’s been two years since she kissed Maggie in front of all those reporters and she’s never regretted it for a second. “I wouldn’t have met you though.”

Maggie turns to face her, pulling her in for a sweet kiss. “Well, then I could have fallen in love with a teammate’s Winter Olympian sister instead.”

The certainty with which her girlfriend speaks of their relationship fills Alex with more joy than any gold medal win could ever give her. Sure, she loved seeing it proudly displayed on the mantle in their apartment, but if she hadn’t placed first, she still would have left PyeongChang feeling like a winner.

That night, on a stroll through the Olympic Village, Alex gets down on one knee.

The media the next morning goes wild.

~

They get married in Alex’s hometown of Midvale the following spring. Neither of them want a big spectacle, so they plan a quiet ceremony by the beach surrounded by friends and family, including Winn and James, Lucy, and Maggie’s entire curling team. 

They spend their two-week honeymoon retracing their steps from their first vacation together, reveling in the feeling of finally being wives.

But eventually they have to return to their routines.

For Alex, lately that means coming home late from a long shift at the lab. They’re understaffed and overworked, each technician pulling extra weight to ensure that they’re processing every case on time. It didn’t help that today, one of her colleagues was out on sick leave. 

Her keys scrape the lock and she trudges in through the door, kicking off her boots. The apartment is dark, the glowing green of the microwave clock the only light. It’s 10 pm. She knows from their shared calendar that Maggie is already asleep. She’s got an early shift at the precinct. 

The kitchen lights flicker on when she hits the switch and a small note on the counter catches her eye.

_Hey babe, dinner is in the fridge. I love you. -M_

Alex sighs and pulls the container out. She sinks onto one of the barstools, slumping forward onto the island counter, and picks at the stir fry with her fork. She’s too tired to even heat it up.

She had been so happy at their wedding and the honeymoon had been a dream. Now, she rarely sees her wife, especially now that she’s been shifted to a Sunday through Thursday work week. 

They speak mostly in Post-It notes and text messages.

She’d thought that having a steady job was what she wanted. She loved science— loved lab work— but maybe she’d made the wrong choice.

She hasn’t skied in months, despite the unusually long season they’ve been having in California. She misses the wind in her face, the chill in the air. She misses that feeling of accomplishment. Of trying a new trick and landing it.

She sets her fork back on the counter and fits the lid back on the container of leftovers, no longer hungry. 

When she slips into bed next to her wife, her mind settles. Even if her life isn’t what she thought it would be, at least she has Maggie. She just needs to get used to her new normal. 

Maybe that will be enough.

~

The following Friday, Alex gets a call from her old coach, John, with an invitation to go skiing over the weekend. The nearest ski resort is a two hour drive, but Maggie is working a double, so Alex jumps at the chance. 

The minute she hits the slopes, nothing else matters. Not even the job that she’s starting to hate or the coworkers she resents for slacking off. Even though she’s been dead on her feet, unable to sleep more than four or five hours a night, her exhaustion melts away as she clips her skis on.

By the late afternoon, both their stomachs are growling, so they retreat back to the lodge for lunch. 

The hot apple cider warms her inside and out and finally the last of the tension she’s carried the past year evaporates. She’s not sure how he knew that this is exactly what she needed, but she’s thankful all the same. “I didn’t think I’d get the opportunity to get up here this season.”

He raises an eyebrow and gives her _that look_. The one she remembers from those early days of training, when she was still trying to get her life together. “I’ve always told you how important it is to take breaks—”

“—or I’ll burn myself out,” she finishes, “You’re right. Still, thank you.”

“You should thank your wife,” he says, “Maggie called me last week.”

Alex’s heart warms. Leave it to her detective to correctly deduce the reason for her depression lately. Maggie has been busy at work as well, yet she’d made the time to call John to arrange for a weekend ski getaway. As soon as she gets home, she resolves to thank her wife. Repeatedly.

John clears his throat to get her attention. “I may have had an ulterior motive for wanting to see you though, Alex.”

“Oh?”

His gaze drifts out the window of the lodge, to where the ski lift runs slowly up the mountain. “I’m getting older.”

Alex scoffs. “You haven’t aged a day in the twenty years I’ve known you.”

He laughs, a low rumbling sound that always comforts her. “I want you to help me run my ski school in Colorado.”

There it is. Blunt. Out in the open. 

She’s stunned. “You want me?”

“I want you. You could teach classes in halfpipe and slopestyle if you liked. We’d be training the next generation of Olympians.”

She sits shell-shocked as he runs through the offer. It’s good. Almost too good to be true. It’s well paying, she’d get to work with John, and she’d be doing something she loves everyday. Not struggling to get through each shift, seeing the woman she loves only in passing.

“What do you think?” His voice breaks through the haze. 

“I’m… I don’t know what to say.”

She’d worked so hard to get her degree while skiing. When she wasn’t training with Coach Jones or working on conditioning in the gym, she was in the lab doing research or in the library studying. She’d sacrificed so much for a career that she could fall back on once she could no longer compete professionally. It was practical. Safe. Relatively well-paying.

She can’t quit her job. 

Can she?

“Take a few days. Talk to Maggie about it,” John says, “In the meantime, let’s hit the slopes.”

~

Maggie had known that Alex wasn’t happy.

It didn’t take a detective to see it, but as Alex’s hours at the lab grew longer, the signs became more obvious. 

It started with a wrinkle between her eyebrows, but as time wore on Alex’s posture grew slumped. The dark circles under her eyes became a permanent fixture and even the little notes Maggie would leave for her around the apartment did little to lift her spirits. 

Alex is stubborn though. When she starts something, she works hard at it and doesn’t stop until her task is complete. She’s an Olympian, she’s used to working through the pain. 

They were similar in that way, which is why Maggie had known exactly what she needed to do. 

She had called Alex’s coach. 

Perhaps a little time in the snow would help center her wife and put the smile back on her face. Indeed, the selfie she had received from Alex seemed to confirm this.

When Alex returns the following Sunday, she’s lighter on her feet, but she’s pensive. 

Maggie watches from the couch as Alex hefts her ski equipment through the door. 

“You’ve been doing some thinking,” she calls from the couch. 

Alex busies herself in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water. She swishes the liquid around in the glass. “It’s… John offered me a job.”

“Yeah?” Maggie isn’t surprised. Her conversation with John a few weeks ago had been brief, but she’d gleaned from his busy schedule that he was overworked. She’s sure that this trip had been for his benefit as much as Alex’s. 

“It’s… It’s a really great opportunity.” Alex is wistful. “And I’d get to ski more than once a year but—” 

“—But we’d have to move.” Maggie finishes.

“Yeah. We’d have to move.” Alex sounds defeated. Like she’s already run through a mental list of pros and cons and decided that being able to pursue what is now just a hobby isn’t worth moving her family across state lines.

But Maggie knows that skiing isn’t just a hobby to her wife. It’s a connection to her father. It’s in her blood. Alex tries to go as much as possible, but the long drive to the nearest ski resort really takes it out of her. She can’t just take her skis and go after classes like she did in college. 

She suspects that Alex still harbors some guilt about asking Maggie to move in with her after the Olympics. For Maggie, that choice could not have been more simple. She had lived in Gotham City since she moved in with her aunt at fourteen. She’d graduated from the police academy there and it’s where she was first introduced to the sport that brought her to the Olympics. She’ll always love the city for its snowy winters and angry cab drivers, but it never felt like home.

Alex Danvers did. 

Moving to California to be with the woman she loved had been a no-brainer, even if the state’s curling programs were lacking.

She’d do it again in a heartbeat to make Alex happy. 

Maggie crosses the apartment, takes the glass from Alex’s hand and sets it on the counter. Her eyes are glassy. Maggie’s hands frame Alex’s face, lightly tilting her head until Alex is looking her in the eye. She wipes a stray tear, caresses Alex’s cheek with her thumb. “You should take it.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice is small and Maggie curses anyone who ever made this woman feel like she deserved anything less than everything she wanted. 

“I’m positive. You’ve been so unhappy lately, babe. I don’t want us to stay here if there’s a better opportunity.”

Alex searches her face, eyes wide. “Maggie…”

“I can transfer to a precinct in Colorado.” Maggie kisses her. “I’ll make the necessary calls tomorrow.”

Alex’s arms slip around her waist and Maggie feels the last bits of tension finally leave her wife's body. 

~

Alex flourishes at the ski school. It’s hard, active work but it’s so rewarding. Six months in, she’s even got a few Olympic hopefuls— some kids just out of high school who look at her starstruck. It’s further away from her mom and Kara, but her sister has been ramping up her training for the next Olympics so she’s been too busy for anything more than a quick phone call. Most importantly, she’s able to go home to Maggie every night at a decent hour. 

The biggest adjustment is being called Coach Danvers-Sawyer.

She starts off with just some private students. Kids whose parents have a lot of money and want to see them become Olympians someday. Most of them are fine skiers, having started when they were very young, but they’re insolent and often refuse direction. It pays the bills certainly, but Alex is thrilled when Coach Jones gives her more group classes. 

Her favorite class comes in on Wednesdays. The underprivileged kids program was started by John a few years back as a way of introducing all children, regardless of background, to skiing. He recognized that talent came from all backgrounds and it shouldn’t only be rich kids who succeed. The classes were free, offered through a partnership with the local youth club, and John wanted to assign his best coach— Alex. 

Her first day with them is a blast. There’s seven kids in this year’s group of assorted ages, mostly preteens with their gangly limbs. They’re skeptical about skiing at the beginning— Alex is well aware of the reputation the sport has with the youth.

_It’s boring. It’s for old people. Snowboarding is way cooler!_

She’s heard it all over the years. 

So instead of forcing them to learn the basics on their first day, she tries a different strategy. 

She’s going to show them what’s possible on a pair of skis.

She stands at the top of the slopestyle course, twin tips clipped to her boots and poles in each hand. She waves to her students at the bottom of the course, fits her father’s goggles over her eyes, and then she flies.

It’s not her most complicated routine, but she makes sure to include plenty of tricks to pique the interest of a novice skier. She knows she’s been successful when she slides into the finish zone and her students erupt into cheers.

After that, they’re all eager to learn, sporting wide grins as they race each other down the bunny slopes, and it reminds her of her youth.

They all thank her at the end of the day, and not in the overly polite way that the private students do, the way that makes her think their parents have forced them to. They’re sincerely happy to be there, and as they’re herded back onto the bus home, she hears them chatter on about _how cool Coach Sawyer-Danvers is_ and _do you think she’ll teach us how to do flips and stuff?_

Their enthusiasm is infectious, and she practically skips through the door of her and Maggie’s shared apartment. She slings her parka over the counter and dances over to the living room, where Maggie is sitting on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table. Alex joins her, settling her head into Maggie’s lap. 

Maggie leans down to kiss her and Alex sighs into the kiss. This is what she’s been missing.

Maggie hums. “I take it work was good today?”

“It was amazing.” She closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of Maggie’s fingernails on her scalp. “I’d forgotten how _good_ it feels to be out there. And seeing those kids out there, experiencing that rush for the first time? Seeing their smiles, hearing them laugh? _That_ is amazing.”

“I have to say, happiness looks good on you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you this carefree since our honeymoon.” 

Alex knows she’s right. She’d felt it the moment she stepped out into the snow this morning and that feeling hadn’t abated as the day went on. She was excited to wake up in the morning. That hadn’t happened in so long.

She wouldn’t be here without Maggie. 

Maggie had given up so much for her to have this. For her to feel fulfilled in her work. But...

“You’re happy too, right?”

She knows how much Maggie’s job means to her. After the Olympics, Maggie had moved to be with her in California. She doesn’t want Maggie to resent her for taking her away from the NCPD too.

“I’m so happy.” Maggie runs the tips of her fingers along the shell of Alex’s ear. “Alex, we made this decision together. This is what I wanted too. The guys at the station even want me to teach them how to curl. Moore is useless with a broom, but Philips has promise. I think he and I might have a chance at mixed pairs.” 

“I love you.” Alex kisses her again and when she pulls back Maggie is breathless. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this.”

Maggie grins, her fingers toying at the buttons of Alex’s henley. “Maybe not, but I can think of a way you can start.”

Alex returns the grin, rolling off the couch and tugging her to the bedroom.

~

She gets to know all of the kids really well, but her favorite is Jamie. 

At seven years old, she’s the youngest of the group. She’s also a sliver of a girl, the rental jacket for her age range coming down to mid-thigh. It reminds her of the first time she met her wife at the Opening Ceremony. 

She’s quiet, sometimes barely speaking a word during lessons, but Alex sees the way her eyes track her every move. The way she listens closely to everything Alex says. That kind of careful scrutiny lends itself to near-perfect form.

Since they’re an odd number, Jamie nearly always rides the ski lift with Alex. It takes a few weeks, but eventually Jamie feels comfortable enough to strike up a conversation.

“Um, Coach Sawyer-Danvers?” 

“Yes, Jamie?”

The girl fiddles with the hem of her parka. “Do you think I’m too little to ski?

“Oh sweetheart, why would you think that?” 

Jamie hesitates. “The other kids make fun of me sometimes.” 

“I don’t think you’re too young at all.”

They reach the top of the mountain and she instructs the rest of her group to proceed ahead and wait for her at the bottom before pulling Jamie aside.

“Do you know how old I was when I started skiing?”

Jamie shakes her head.

“I was exactly your age when my dad first took me out.” Jamie looks up at her in shock. “He wanted to take me earlier, but my mom wouldn’t let him.”

That makes the girl giggle.

“It doesn’t matter how old you are. All that matters is how much fun you’re having.” She sets her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Are you having fun?”

“I love skiing!” Jamie nods wildly. “I wanna be as good as you someday!”

Alex’s heart warms. “Keep practicing and you will be.”

That afternoon at lunch, while the other kids group together around a table for lunch, Jamie asks to sit with Alex. 

She plops her small sack lunch onto the table and pulls out a small peanut butter sandwich— no jelly. She carefully pulls the crusts off before taking a bite and chewing slowly, her nose wrinkling as she eats. 

“Do you not like peanut butter, Jamie?” Alex asks. 

Jamie looks down at the rest of the sandwich in her hands. “I do, it’s just… I don’t like the crunchy kind.” 

The girl’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh as she reluctantly takes another bite.

“Have you told anyone you don’t like it?”

Jamie just nods. 

“And your parents still pack it for you?”

“It’s what the other kids like.”

“The others?”

“In my foster home.” 

“Oh.” 

That didn’t necessarily mean Jamie was in a bad situation. Kara had been a foster kid once. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was young and she’d spent a few months in a group home before the Danvers family took her in. She doesn’t talk about it much, but she was also quite young. 

Jamie’s stomach audibly growls and Alex watches as Jamie spills the remaining contents of the brown paper bag onto the table. A single apple rolls to a stop and Jamie frowns, sighing once more. 

Alex looks down at her own meal, Maggie’s famous meatloaf surrounded by colorful roasted vegetables, and suddenly her own hunger is replaced by guilt.

“Would you like to share mine?”

“Really?” Jamie’s eyes widen, darting up to Alex’s face then back to the meatloaf in rapid succession.

Alex nods, handing Jamie the container and a fork. The girl hesitates with the utensil for a moment, as if she’s afraid that the container will be yanked away at any moment. She spears the smallest piece of meatloaf Alex has ever seen.

“Go on sweetheart, I’m not very hungry today. I had a really big breakfast.”

At the reassurance, Jamie digs in, smiling at the taste. 

It’s clear that the girl isn’t happy where she is. The peanut butter is just her first clue.

All of the kids protest when they have to head home, but Jamie is the only one whose eyes wobble with tears. When pressed about Jamie’s home life, the youth group volunteers are cagey, unwilling to provide Alex with any information. She’s _just a_ _ski coach after all_. 

Alex thinks about how withdrawn Jamie had been during her first class. How she’d tried to disappear into the background, only speaking when spoken to. But Alex had noticed how quickly she picked up the sport. How she’d smile when she clipped into her skis. The way she’d shyly admitted that she looked forward to ski lessons all week.

Alex had taken her under her wing, taking the time and care to draw her out of her shell.

Jamie deserves to be seen, not forgotten about, her preferences ignored. 

But the youth group chaperones are right. She’s just a skiing coach. Jamie _is_ being fed and she _does_ have a roof over her head. Just because Jamie isn’t being raised the way that _she_ would—

Alex stops in her tracks on her way back to the lodge. 

She can’t think like that. 

Jamie isn’t her kid. 

Still, the following week, she makes sure that Maggie packs her an extra lunch. 

~

One day, Jamie doesn’t turn up. 

Alex sidles up to the youth group volunteers, her attendance clipboard in hand, but when she inquires about the girl, she’s met with disinterested shrugs. 

She knows that Jamie has probably caught a cold— it is that time of year— but still she worries. 

What if she doesn’t have someone at home to care for her? Someone to tuck her in and read her a story or make her some soup? 

Another week passes without any sign of Jamie and Alex begins to fear the worst. 

As soon as she gets home, she unloads. “They don’t know where she is,” she frets, “Maggie, something could have happened to her.”

Maggie guides her to sit at the kitchen table and hands her a mug of tea.

“What if she ran away?” Alex continues. “What if I missed something— a sign or—” 

Her mind races with all the possibilities, each one worse than the last.

“—hey,” Maggie interrupts, kneeling in front of her. “It’s going to be okay.”

The tears track down her cheeks. “You don’t know that.”

“I’ll look into it,” Maggie assures, “You’ve got the best detective in Colorado on the case.”

The promise placates Alex for the moment. If anyone is able to find her, it would be Maggie. 

~

Maggie taps her boot on the linoleum floor of the precinct. She’s been on hold with social services for an hour with no response, the hold music droning on in her ears, a tinny muzak rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin'.” Maggie would laugh at the coincidence— it’s her and Alex’s song— but she’s beyond frustrated. 

She’s known the system is disorganized and understaffed, but there’s the safety of a kid on the line. 

The song ends and immediately repeats and Maggie slams the phone down on the receiver.

Her partner looks over with a quirked eyebrow. “Damn Sawyer, what’d the phone ever do to you?”

“Just… bureaucracy bullshit.” She rubs her temples. “I can’t get through to CPS.”

“Got a case I don’t know about?” 

“No. It’s… My wife is a ski instructor, right?” At his acknowledgement she continues, “She teaches this free class for kids once a week. Every Wednesday. But one of the kids just stopped showing up.”

Detective Philips frowns. “She thinks the kid might be in trouble?”

A heavy sigh. “Not sure. Foster kid. Group home. That’s all she could gather.”

“Let’s head down to their office.” Philips claps her on the shoulder. “Maybe we can grease the wheel.” 

It takes half a day and her partner sweet talking the social worker, but eventually their detective work pans out. The group home Jamie was in closed— financial issues— and all of the kids had been shuffled around. The youngest kids had been placed with families, but Jamie was sent to another group home with the rest.

Maggie drums her fingers on the steering wheel of her cruiser as she navigates the freshly plowed streets back home. 

She knows that Alex wants kids someday— they’d discussed it before they got married— but Maggie had been unsure. She hadn’t had the best luck with parents as a kid. Her own had disowned her after she came out as a lesbian and the only reason she hadn’t ended up on the streets was due to the kindness of an aunt. 

She had never pictured herself as a mother, but she doesn’t want another child to feel like she did— unwanted and alone. 

That night, she and Alex come to a decision.

They apply to be foster parents. 

~

It’s a lengthy process full of interviews and assessments, references and background checks.

Alex knows that they’re in a good position— both she and Maggie have jobs and can provide for a child financially. But what if that’s also a strike against them? What if CPS rules that they’re too busy for a child? 

She chews at her fingernail, shifting in the stiff-backed waiting room chair. Six months had gone by so slowly and while they visited Jamie every week at the group home, it broke her heart every time they had to leave without her. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” Maggie’s hand is strong and steady on her knee and Alex takes comfort from her proximity. 

She’s right. Alex knows she’s right. She’s so thankful for her wife in this moment. Maggie had been nervous the first time she met Jamie, but after a few meetings, they’d become thick as thieves. Neither of them had any reservations about wanting to provide a home for Jamie together. 

The office door creaks open and the social worker pops her head out. “Mrs. and Mrs. Sawyer-Danvers?”

Alex follows Maggie into the office and they sit side-by-side in two more uncomfortable chairs. Maggie’s hand is sweaty in hers. This is the moment of truth.

The social worker rifles through the file cabinet next to her desk, her cheerful humming a stark contrast to the trepidation Alex feels. The social worker pulls out a file and sets it on her desk, adjusting her cat-eye glasses as she stares down the women in front of her.

“Let’s see,” she says, opening the file, “It looks like all of your paperwork is in order. I’m happy to say you’ve been approved as foster parents.”

“Wait, that’s it?” Alex is baffled. She’d entered the office expecting the worst, bracing for a fight. 

“That’s it.” The social worker smiles. “You two have been the most dedicated applicants I’ve seen in a while. From what we’ve observed, we’re confident that you’ll be able to provide a loving, nurturing home.”

“So does this mean…” Maggie starts, unsure. 

“I think Jamie would be a perfect match for your family. She had already bonded with you and you’ve both shown that you’re committed to her safety and welfare.”

Alex squeezes Maggie’s hand. “Thank you so much. Really, thank you.”

The social worker stands. “Now, how would you two like to break the news?”

~

She breathes in, letting the cold mountain air fill her lungs. 

The course is laid out in front of her. She’s studied every ramp, every rail. 

She can see the crowd below, flanking each side, her mother and the rest of her family among them, but it’s quiet in her head. 

She knows what she needs to do. 

She pulls the goggles down over her eyes and everything pulls into focus. 

She can’t hear the roar of the crowd down below or the idle chatter of the other competitors. She doesn’t feel the chill against her cheeks, can’t think of anything other than the feeling of her poles in each hand. 

The buzzer sounds and she’s off. 

She makes quick work of the rail garden, then transitions to the kickers. She’s working entirely on muscle memory as she soars through the air, putting down a perfect triple combo. She slides into the finish zone and waits, her coach by her side. 

She holds her breath. 

This is the best she has ever skied. She knows it. She feels it. 

Finally the score flashes up on the screen: 96.66. 

An unbelievable run for a rookie. 

A gold medal run. 

She’s going to the Olympics.

Jamie pulls her goggles— _her mother’s goggles—_ up onto her helmet in shock. 

Her coach pulls her in for a hug. “You did it! I’m so proud of you.”

She returns the hug fiercely, burying her face into Alex's neck. Tears are streaming down her face, but she doesn’t care. She’s never been happier than she is in this moment. “Thanks, mom.”


End file.
